A Little Learning and Less Sense
by Mimic Teruyo
Summary: Bored out of her mind and inspired by her recent reading, Tenshi decides to find an answer to a question that's been bugging her first-hand. Nothing can possibly go wrong.
1. Bad Chemistry

The Gensokyo Chronicle wasn't a book. It was a revelation.

From the moment Tenshi had clapped eyes on a copy during her most recent visit to Gensokyo, she had taken it everywhere with her. Even the most familiar and boring nooks and crannies of Heaven were vastly improved by being able to plunge into the impure world of phantoms and youkai at a moment's notice. The book was a far better companion than any of her peers, that was for sure.

At the moment, a lazy spring afternoon, Tenshi was lying on her back on her bed, holding the book high above her and squinting at the text, marvelling at how something so small could contain so much vital information. It had sections on all the jerks she had encountered during the summer, some more detailed than the others, some containing assessments Tenshi found downright laughable. Still, it was important to know one's enemy, so she pored over the details, and made sure to learn everything essential about all the creatures she hadn't met yet as well. It mentioned locations both charming and dangerous, all of which Tenshi promised herself she would go see at the first available opportunity. It had sections on all the races of Gensokyo, and even one on celestials, which made the author sound like huge dull dud for thinking the life of the average celestial was somehow enjoyable. It was a pity, because otherwise Tenshi had quite taken to this Hieda no Akyuu; insightful for a human, with an unusual ability and a wry sense of humour.

Still, as magnificent as the opus was, it had two flaws that no matter how Tenshi tried, she couldn't ignore. First, and most pressingly, Tenshi had no individual entry in the chronicle. It was understandable, even though it irked her: she had not been well known in Gensokyo by the time of its publishing. Surely the incident she had created the previous summer more than earned her a two-page spread in the book if some pointless spring herald fairy and bug youkai had made it in, too. Perhaps the next time she blessed the surface world with her presence, she'd pay Akyuu a visit, to make sure she added all the best details into the no doubt forthcoming expansion to the chronicle.

The other problem was minor, but bugged Tenshi nevertheless: The Dragon God had its own entry, filled with human ignorance (although it made Tenshi wonder if she had managed to make the eyes of the statue mentioned in the entry glow red), but not a word on the Messengers of the Dragon Palace. Normally, Tenshi wouldn't have bat an eye: the messengers were boring, and with one exception, she couldn't even tell them apart. It was that one exception that had first aroused her suspicion, and to which she had in vain searched for a confirmation or denial in the chronicle; were the Messengers of the Dragon Palace really youkai, like she had been led to believe, or something else entirely?

Tossing the book aside, she rolled off her bed and walked to the window, brushing past the heavy night-time curtains tied to the sides, and parting the gossamer-like curtains that stood in place even during daytime. The view had once been awe-inspiring, mundane as it was to Tenshi now: immediately beneath her window was a vast garden in full bloom, with an endless parade of vines, shrubs, and pastel-coloured flowers everywhere she looked. Beyond the white fence of the garden and the hill the Hinanawi estate was built on opened a view to the rest of Bhava-agra; neat houses, tidy walkways, and above all plants everywhere, everything from mighty peach trees to the smallest forget-me-nots. She saw but a handful of people: while Akyuu was clearly unaware of it based on what she had written in the chronicle, Heaven had plenty of legroom.

She thought she recognised one of the passers-by floating around and squinted. It was indeed Iku, easy to spot by her scarlet clothing. Tenshi didn't think much of it: it had been a while since her last report. She followed with her eyes as Iku encountered two celestials on a stroll and respectfully tipped her hat.

Tenshi narrowed her eyes and with a huff, drew the curtains.

There it was again. Even before her ascension, from her earliest memories, she had known youkai and celestials were at odds, and nothing in the Gensokyo Chronicle had disabused her of this notion. If anything, the emphasis Akyuu gave to the eternal rivalry between youkai and humans, including those being who had risen above humanity, had only further spurred Tenshi's suspicions that Iku was merely masquerading as a youkai. So what if she and her kind were called Messengers of the Dragon Palace? So what if everyone she had brought up the topic to, including Iku herself had firmly stated she was indeed a youkai? None of that meant anything when you really got down to it.

Tenshi flopped back onto her bed and buried her face in her pillow. That such a pointless matter was eating her up meant she had reached an extreme state of ennui. She had to come up with something interesting to do, and fast, or else she might, Heaven forbid, end up like those sad sacks, supposedly content celestials who were glad to do the same uninteresting activities day in, day out.

Idly, she picked up the Gensokyo Chronicle and leafed through it. She ignored the fairies with an eye roll, then landed on the celestial section. Her eyes brushed over the page. Nothing on it piqued her interest, but that was to be expected: everything on it she had already known before opening the book. She was just about the jump to the later portion of the book, with all the interesting locations, when her eyes caught sight of a particular sentence.

Again, it was nothing new. Quite the opposite, it was something she had known since childhood. Still, seeing the fact written in black and white made a seed germinate in her mind.

She shrugged. What the hell. It would provide a brief diversion at least, as well as answer the nagging doubt.

She jumped off the bed and back to the window. Iku was nowhere in sight. Tenshi was the only family member at home, so there was no need to hastily arrange her parents elsewhere. She quickly walked over to her drawing room and to the bell there to summon a servant. She had some preparations to do.

* * *

"Just normal spring rains, then?" Tenshi asked, taking a long sip from her glass before setting it back on the drawing room table.

"Quite normal, yes." Iku stood next to the table, her hands loosely crossed in front of her. "The people of Gensokyo are sure to be glad for regular weather, after the crop failure of the previous year."

"Uh huh." Try as she might, Tenshi couldn't feign interest. Then again, overt attention probably would have made Iku suspicious. "So, nothing new under the sun, beneath the clouds or otherwise."

"That is one way of putting it, yes."

"Oh well." Tenshi leaned backwards in her chair, her hands behind her head. She made sure to keep them out of Iku's sight: the wound she had cut into her left palm was already healing thanks to her celestial constitution, but it served her well to keep the messenger oblivious.

Her eyes landed on the heavily laden table, prepared just in time before her visitor arrived: a bowlful of the most succulent peaches, a crystal pitcher containing juice, three unused glasses neatly stacked into one another, and Tenshi's glass, into which she had poured a drink as soon as the servants had left.

Iku waited in place, her gaze unfocused. No doubt she was waiting to be dismissed.

Instead, Tenshi sighed and fanned herself with her healthy hand. "Maybe I'll go there anyway, if only to see the rain. I'm sick of warmth and sunlight."

"I'm afraid endless sunlight is the burden of those who live above the clouds," Iku replied with a slight smile.

"And endless clouds are the burden of those who live in them." Tenshi leaned towards the table and selected a peach for herself. "Don't you get hot when you come here? Since it's cooler where you usually are?"

"I thank you for your concern, Eldest Daughter." Iku inclined her head. "Fortunately, the difference in temperature is slight enough that I am capable of adjusting to it without difficulties."

"No need to pretend it doesn't bother you." Tenshi placed the peach on the table and gestured at the bowl. "Have some refreshments. There's way more than I can eat by myself, anyway."

"Thank you, but I wouldn't want to impose."

"Yeah, it's such an imposition when I'm literally offering them to you." Tenshi rolled her eyes. She was relatively sure Iku was just being polite by declining, but it was the kind of politeness she had never understood. "At least have a glass of juice."

"It really isn't necessary to offer me anything, Eldest Daughter."

"I insist."

Based on the faint smile that dawned on Iku's face, Tenshi had hit the required amount of offers for her to accept without breaking some dull decorum Tenshi didn't give a toss about. "In that case, I humbly accept."

"Good." Tenshi picked up the pitcher with her good hand and carefully placed it above the topmost unused cup, and slowly poured out a drink with her tongue at the centre of her mouth. Hopefully the gesture looked natural enough. "The next time I want to give you something, can't you just accept it the first time I ask?"

Iku tilted her head ever so slightly to the right, a gesture Tenshi had come to associate with her reading the atmosphere. "If you would prefer that, then yes."

"I would." Tenshi placed the pitcher back on the table, then used the same hand to pick up the glass and offered it to Iku.

Iku bend over and took the glass without further murmurs. The juice was a light orange. Perhaps just a tad more orange than peach juice in general, but from what Tenshi could tell, Iku hadn't caught on.

"Very well. I thank you, Eldest Daughter." With that, Iku raised the glass to her lips.

With all her willpower, Tenshi resisted the urge to curl her mouth into a smile.

As soon as Iku took a slight sip, her entire body went rigid. She slowly lowered the class, with a confused, vaguely disgusted look on her face.

Tenshi affected a puzzled frown. "What's the matter?"

Iku swallowed audibly, then brought her free hand to her mouth. "I'm sorry, Eldest Daughter. Perhaps it is an acquired taste I have yet to gain."

"Oh." Tenshi's shoulders slumped. Was her tampering that obvious? Or could it be heavenly peaches really were an acquired taste to non-celestials? Either way, her experiment would never work if Iku didn't drink at least some of the juice.

Iku took a quick look at Tenshi's no doubt crestfallen face, then visibly hesitated. Slowly and deliberately, she raised the glass back to her lips.

Tenshi looked on in amazement as slowly and steadily, Iku drank all the juice remaining in the glass, then placed it on the table.

That done, Iku visibly shuddered, her face scrunched up into a pained frown. "Thank you again for your hospitality, Eldest Daughter."

"You didn't have to drink it if tasted that bad," said Tenshi, while secretly celebrating in her mind.

Iku raised her hand to her forehead, in a gesture that seemed unconscious. "It wouldn't heed well to refuse a gift already accepted. Now, however, I must —" she paused and blinked rapidly as another shudder ran through her.

"Are you alright?" Tenshi shuffled to the edge of her seat.

"I'm...I'm not sure why, but..." Iku winced and squeezed her eyes shut. "Forgive me, Eldest Daughter, but—" With that, she swooned, collapsing into a heap on the ground.

Tenshi jumped to her feet and clapped her hands together in triumph, the cut on the left palm quite forgotten. "It worked! And if my blood works on you, you really must be a youkai! A weird youkai, but still." She smirked. "Pretty clever, wasn't it?"

When Iku didn't react, the initial rush of excitement of a successful experiment ebbed away, replaced by everyday ennui. "Well, that wasted five minutes, anyway. Do you have any ideas what I could do next?"

She crouched down next to Iku and prodded her shoulder, to no response. She prodded again for more of the same.

"Fine." She shrugged. "Play dead if you want. Be a big baby about being outsmarted. We both know I won, either way."

She waited a few moments more, and when Iku remained silent, got up and slouched back onto her chair.

"You know," she began after a while, then paused to pick up the peach she had previously discarded and took a juicy bite out of it. After swallowing, she continued. "I have all the time in the world. You, on the other hand, have to get back to work."

Still nothing. Tenshi rolled her eyes and looked out of the window, savouring the peach.

A thought crossed her mind. A silly thing, something she hadn't even considered while hastily concocting her plan.

She had never checked exactly how potent a poison celestial blood was to youkai.

She dropped the peach and took to the floor once more, rolling Iku onto her back. The youkai's features had smoothed out, and but for the slight crease between her eyes, she would have passed for sleeping.

"Iku?" She raised Iku's eyelid. The crimson eye revealed underneath looked forward seeing nothing, glazed over. Tenshi allowed the lid to drop again.

"Seriously." An odd feeling had taken to the bottom of her stomach, and she didn't much care for it. She took Iku by both shoulders and shook her. "Wake up already!"

When again she received no response, the strange suffocating feeling, so unfamiliar she didn't even have a name for it, tightened its grip on her like a vice. She laid Iku's upper body back on the floor, gently despite her shaking arms, and placed her head on her chest.

She caught the thrum of an unfamiliar heart, and let out a breath she hadn't known she had been holding.

After one last tentative shake, Tenshi sat back done, unsure how to proceed. Iku wasn't dead so that was a start, but neither did she show any signs of regaining consciousness.

After a minute spent chewing her lip, she stood up and reached for the bell again. She had to at least figure out what the effects of her blood were, and she could always cow the servants into silence. Better than allowing, well — Tenshi bit her lip — whatever could happen otherwise.

* * *

Tenshi tossed the book aside and grabbed the next one, quickly flipping to the index. Seeing nothing useful, she threw it over her shoulder and ignored the cling of breaking glass that follow the toss. Broken glasses could be fixed later. The broken messenger had to be fixed before she turned to blood on Tenshi's hands.

As she reached for the next book, her gaze briefly fell on Iku. With the servant's help, though she probably could have managed alone, she had lifted her onto the divan by the edge of the drawing room. As the mute and pale-faced servant left the room to fetch the books Tenshi had ordered, she had pulled her chair closer to the divan to better keep an eye on Iku's condition. She hadn't grown any worse, at least — her breathing was steady, and the cold sweat that had emerged on her forehead had dried up — but neither had she shown any signs of waking up.

While waiting for the books, Tenshi had finally been able to put a name on what she had felt when she first realised what might have happened.

Fear.

Scowling, Tenshi opened the next book. Immediately, this one showed more promise than the other books combined. She trailed the page with her finger and found the keyword she had been looking for, then quickly flipped over.

"Blood of celestials..." It took her a moment to realise she was murmuring to herself. She closed her mouthed and quickly scanned through the complicated kanji to where it spoke of lethal doses.

She did some quick calculations in her mind. She hadn't bled nearly that much, had she? And even if she had, some of the blood had to remain in the pitcher.

She peered more carefully at the section, then at the section following it at the possible side effects, then glanced at Iku. The knot of fear in her stomach finally loosened up.

"It's okay. You won't die. It's fine." She spoke up more for her own benefit than Iku's, but even then her words fell flat. She felt faint in a way she hadn't for centuries, and couldn't put a finger on why.

She continued to puzzle over the strange, unfamiliar emotions as she put down the book and settled down to wait for Iku to awaken.


	2. Worse Sensibility

Several moments ticked by. Tenshi relaxed in her seat and tapped her foot against the floor. As Iku still showed no signs of stirring, she picked up the encyclopedia which had informed of the exact powers of her blood and leafed through it. It was a dull read, with none of the vibrancy of the Gensokyo Chronicle, but she engrossed herself in it nevertheless.

Finally, there was a loud gasp for air, like someone breathing for the first time after nearly drowning. Iku's eyelids fluttered, and soon she opened her eyes, her face slowly twisting into a drowsy frown. She turned her head sluggishly until her gaze landed on Tenshi. "Eldest Daughter?"

Tenshi felt a rush of what she faintly recognised as relief, another sentiment of little use in her life. She nodded and closed the book, placing it on her lap. "It's me." Disorientation had been listed in the book as one of the milder after-effects. Tenshi hoped they wouldn't get more severe.

Iku raised her hand up, presumably to touch her head. The higher she raised it, the shakier it got, and she gave up halfway through and allowed it to fall back on her chest. "What happened?"

"Nothing much." If Iku was perfectly capable of speech, and didn't appear amnesiac, assuming she could get up, Tenshi had succeeded in her experiment with no ill effects whatsoever. And to think she had been worried! What a waste of energy. "Can you sit up?"

Iku took a deep breath and attempted to push herself off the divan. Soon, she gave up, turning her head away and closing her eyes. "Forgive me, but I seem to lack to strength to do so. I may have to take advantage of your hospitality for a moment longer."

"Whatever." Tenshi reopened the book.

"I truly am sorry." Iku closed her eyes again. "I have no idea what came over me."

"I do," Tenshi admitted, without realising it was an admission until she had already uttered the words.

Iku opened her eyes, her attention drawn to the tome on Tenshi's lap. "You have deduced the cause?" She sounded impressed.

"Oh, this is just to see the side effects." Tenshi slammed the book shut once more. "You drank the blood of a celestial."

Immediately, what little colour had been left drained from Iku's face. "I beg your pardon?"

Tenshi presented her cut hand. The closed wound was only faintly visible, but it would have to do. "I was bored, so I did a little experiment." She did her best to both sound and feel triumphant, but the strange emotion that had followed fear reared its head and muted the sentiment, like rain watered down sounds. Irritated, she pushed on. "I wasn't sure you were really a youkai, so I had to find out."

She became aware Iku was staring at her like she had just turned into a giant peach. "What?"

"You did this, Eldest Daughter?" Iku's voice was as composed as ever, but something about the way she narrowed her eyes told Tenshi it was more of a front than usual.

Tenshi put the book aside and folded her arms . "I did. What of it?"

Iku said nothing. It was as if she had turned to ice; not only did she not move, but the temperature in the room dropped by several degrees.

"Eldest Daughter..." she finally said, her voice dangerously even.

"Yes?" Tenshi braced herself with a trill of anticipation. She hadn't planned this far ahead, but seriously ticking Iku off was a perfectly welcome side-effect. Iku was usually too phlegmatic to react much, but when her temper flared, she was a fearsome fighter. In fact, Tenshi had been itching for a rematch for quite some time.

Only, Iku didn't attack. She didn't finish her sentence, merely turned her head to stare at the ceiling. Only once Tenshi began to suspect she was still woozy from the poison did she speak again, in an entirely toneless voice: "I didn't expect this of you."

Tenshi blinked. "That's it?"

"What would you have me say?" Tenshi wasn't the best judge of sarcasm, but here it was as heavy as a leaden weight. "Should I be cross? I see now it will have no effect."

"It might," Tenshi tried. Angering Iku hadn't been her goal, but being denied it annoyed her nevertheless. This distant coldness more resembled the blandness her parents so readily bestowed upon her.

Iku said nothing for a long while. Then, she shook her head, her eyes firmly averted from Tenshi. "I'm afraid I still feel rather unwell. I would like to rest for a moment longer."

"Fine!" Tenshi snapped and jumped to her feet. "Next time, I won't care if you die!"

When Iku refused to comment, Tenshi stormed away, leaving the door ajar behind her. She marched down the corridor, fuming, until she came to a large window. She slided it open and breathed in the fresh air, still fuming.

She rarely thought about why she did what she did: she had hardly any reason to. Right then, however, she couldn't help but puzzle over why she was so enraged over this. She had gotten out of the experiment what she had been looking for; a momentary diversion and an answer to something that bothered her. So what if Iku barely reacted and refused to be angry? That hadn't been the goal, only a perk Tenshi hadn't considered in advance.

The worst of the anger flowed away as she focused on her breathing, only to reveal another puzzle in its wake. The knot in her stomach had returned.

Tenshi willed it to disappear, but it remained stubbornly in place, weighing her down with a feeling that wasn't fear, but something even more alien. The more she poked at it, the larger it grew, until she began to feel sick.

This, in turn, made her anger surge out again. She stomped back to her room.

"See here, Iku..." she began.

She realised she was speaking to an empty room. 

* * *

"How did she even do it?" Tenshi mumbled more to herself than the wide-eyed servant cleaning up the room. "She could barely move. Can't imagine her going out through the window like that."

"I couldn't say, Eldest Daughter," the servant replied meekly. She finished collecting the shards of glass that had an hour ago been a small, rather repugnant glass stand, then hesitated. "Shall I take away the pitcher, or would you prefer to drink the rest?"

Take it and get rid of it." Tenshi pulled her crossed arms closer to her chest and leaned against the windowsill. "She's never done something like this before, you know. She's usually strict about protocol."

"If you say so, Eldest Daughter." With shaking hands, the servant picked up the tray with the juice and glasses. "Um...would you like me to inform Lord Nai of what happened, or would you rather wait till the official announcement from the Dragon Palace?"

Tenshi frowned and leaned forward. "What official announcement? Who's going to care about this?"

"Oh." The items on the tray clattered as the servant shrunk more into herself. "I—I mean, it's possible the Messenger of the Dragon Palace doesn't report this ahead, but usually altercations like this, w-well..."

Tenshi gave the servant a long, hard stare, then waved her hand at the door. "Go away."

"R-right away, Eldest Daughter!" The servant scurried to the door.

Tenshi rolled her eyes as the door slid shut behind the servant. Stupid girl. Like there'd be any consequences when nothing had happened.

The knot in her stomach tightened.

Tenshi stood up and began circling the drawing room. Really, what could possibly happen? Even if she had somehow managed to kill Iku — the knot tightened to a painful degree, and she quickly dismissed the mental image the thought brought with it — what was the worst that could possibly have happened? Bhava-Agra and the Dragon Palace had an unbreakable alliance, impossible to tarnish with such a trivial incident, and even if her parents would have been cross, so what? As if they'd have tried to punish her. The only person who had done that in centuries was, well...

She stopped by the divan where Iku had rested earlier. Really, Iku had been the only person from either Heaven or the Dragon Palace to react to Tenshi's incident. Rude though Iku's punishment had been, in a way Tenshi had found it almost...fun. Someone she knew had actually paid attention to what she did, and not just because she had wrecked something that belonged to them.

And now, Iku no longer cared either...

Tenshi kicked the divan with a huff. So what? Iku was just a messenger from the Dragon Palace, and like Tenshi had proven, merely a youkai to boot. Why should a celestial like herself feel—

Her stomach convulsed violently.

She sat down and bit back the bile rising up her throat. The nausea soon faded, but her irritation only grew. What was going on? She hadn't drunk any of the tainted juice, and even if she had, it had been her blood in the first place.

Just thinking that rekindled the nausea. Once Tenshi looked back up, her vision blurry, she caught sight of the nearby pile of books by the divan. The servant must have collected all the tomes together, but had been in too much of a rush to leave to take them with her. Tenshi rolled her eyes and crouched by the pile, scanning the spines of the books. Another servant would come pick them up in due time, and all she wanted was the Gensokyo Chronicle. She pulled the correct volume from the pile, ignoring the pile collapsing around it, and retreated to her bedroom before she started feeling sick again. 

* * *

Weeks passed, and Tenshi had no peace. If Iku had tattled about what happened, Tenshi hadn't heard of it, and life in Bhava-Agra went on in its usual tedium. She hadn't even seen Iku since that afternoon: twice already a different messenger of the Dragon Palace had made a report of future tidings, but as she hadn't been Iku, Tenshi had listened even less than usual.

Somehow, Iku's absence was more oppressive than actually seeing her would have been, or so Tenshi figured anyway. Had she been able to meet her face to face, at least Tenshi could have — Tenshi looked up at the sky above, lying on her back in a meadow as she often did on particularly dull days — well, she hadn't thought about it that far, but she had a feeling speaking to Iku might alleviate the endless bouts of nausea that followed her everywhere.

It was all stupid, of course. If Iku herself didn't care enough to confront her, why should Tenshi—

Tenshi squeezed her eyes shut and waited for the nausea to pass.

Back in health, she grabbed the Gensokyo Chronicle lying on her stomach and began pouring over it. Enough of this. Hang Iku for all she cared. She was going to take her mind of everything both in and above the clouds, and finally pay another visit to Gensokyo.

Her finger stopped automatically on an article about a youkai, no doubt because the pages were dog-eared from frequent use. Threat level, Extremely high. Human friendship level, Worst...

Tenshi slammed the book shut and left it on the meadow as she hurried to the nearest exit to the clouds. No-one would touch it while she was gone if they knew what was good for them.

As for what was good for Tenshi...a smile spread across her face. Today was going to be special.


	3. Worst Impulse Control

From first glance, it was obvious why the Garden of the Sun was named such. All the flowers to the last blossom were turned towards the skies, drinking in the rays of the distant sun. Like in Bhava-agra, the garden stretched as far as Tenshi's eye could see, but unlike the subdued, pretty plants of Heaven, this garden was more like a burgeoning cornucopia. The flowers were larger, more colourful, eclectically mixed, and shadowing the ground with their massive leaves. Small, curvy footpaths separated the endless flower patches from one another.

Tenshi's eyes glazed over the patch right below her, which was dominated by sunflowers. They were impressive, sure, but of little interest to her. Who cared about some pretty plants when there was an ancient youkai to hunt down?

She floated along, eyes darting around, until she finally spotted movement where three of the footpaths converged. She immediately descended, landing into the sea of flowers not far away from her target.

The sunflowers towered above her as she rushed down the footpath. The air wafted with an alluring scent not that of sunflowers, so it had to be from some other plant cunningly growing in their midst. She ignored it and hastened her steps as she heard her target softly humming a song just ahead.

Had she not already known the truth, Tenshi would never have guessed Yuuka Kazami was a sheer force of nature. With her simple plaid outfit, her calm stance, and the tender way her parasol-free hand glided over the flowers, she could have easily passed for some benign and utterly harmless nature spirit, or even a human. Her methodical, deliberate way of moving even reminded Tenshi of celestials, namely those of her peers happy to waste eternity away in unmoving, unchallenging pleasures.

Tenshi wasn't going to be fooled. She stepped boldly ahead to where Yuuka couldn't possibly miss her, and placed her hands on her hips. "You there."

At first, Yuuka gave no sign she had heard her. Slowly, she turned her head, and two startlingly red eyes clapped themselves onto Tenshi.

A beatific smile blossomed on Yuuka's lips. "How may I help you?"

Tenshi stared, then took another step forward. There was more to Yuuka than she led on. There had to be. The Gensokyo Chronicle couldn't have lied. "You're Yuuka Kazami?"

"Yes." Yuuka inspected Tenshi like she was a vaguely interesting landscape painting. "Are you lost?"

"No."

"A tourist, then?" Yuuka's fingers danced nimbly across the nearest sunflower leaf. "Very well. I take my tea once the water lilies close their petals for the day. If you'd like to join me then, you may. For now, please enjoy yourself. Mind the flowers."

For a moment, Tenshi was struck by the strangeness of a youkai who was a creature of the day. Weren't all of them supposed to be more at home the night?

She stopped caring the moment Yuuka turned towards the path ahead and began walking away. She snapped to attention and raised her hand, summoning the Sword of Hisou. Without hesitation, she grabbed the hilt with both hands and plunged the blade into the earth before her feet.

The blade only sank halfway into the ground and made little impact, but her stunt had attracted Yuuka's attention. She rotated her head back, with a politely puzzled expression on her face.

In one smooth motion, Tenshi drew the blade from the ground, scattering specks of soil on the path as she pointed the sword at Yuuka's chest. "I'm not here for a tea party. I'm here for a duel."

Yuuka arched her eyebrow. "I see." Her melodious voice remained pleasant, but with a new undercurrent of interest. "For any particular reason?"

"I want to see if you're as tough as they say you are."

Yuuka raised her gaze towards the sun. "I can't remember the last time someone challenged me for that sole purpose." She stretched her body languidly, almost cat-like, then narrowed her eyes. "As it happens, you caught me in a good mood. I don't mind accommodating you. What do you say to three spellcards, and the usual time limits?"

Tenshi raised the Sword of Hisou upwards and and pulled it close to her chest. "No spellcards. Real combat."

Yuuka's eyes shot open. For a brief moment, she appeared genuinely curious. "You do realise the Hakurei shrine maiden is against solving disputes through non-spellcard means, do you not?"

"Don't give me that. Are you going to tell me you give a toss about what some human tells you? Are you seriously going to bow down to someone who only lives for a hundred years at best?"

"I consider it a matter of good manners, not submission." Yuuka tilted her head. Despite her words, something about the way she stood had changed. "Would it be to defeat or to death?"

"What's the difference?"

"How much of the vanquished remains in one piece." With a careful, almost exaggerated motion, Yuuka closed her parasol and rested it against her shoulder. "On such a lovely day, however, I might let you live."

Tenshi lowered her sword and widened her stance. "I hope you're as strong as you're arrogant."

Yuuka laughed at that, a short, genuinely amused chuckled. "Aren't you something, my dear? So confident." She pointed her parasol casually towards the ground. "Or are you simply foolish?"

"Don't you want to find out?"

Yuuka raised her parasol again and twirled it by slowly rotating her wrist, her eyes focused on the movement. "Very well. Let's do it the proper way."

Slowly, very slowly, she walked towards Tenshi with a faint smile on her lips.

Tenshi held her sword as a buffer between her and Yuuka, not moving a muscle. At such a glacial movement speed, Yuuka made for an insultingly easy target. Was she trying to lure Tenshi into a false sense of security and strike like a viper the moment she got too close? Or perhaps she wasn't taking this duel seriously at all, and felt the legendary sword in Tenshi's hand was as effective as a chopstick? If so, Tenshi was going to make her regret it.

She focused. To strike Yuuka's unprotected side, or to go for the weapon arm immediately? Or should she let Yuuka take the first shot, to see what the best of youkai could offer?

Yuuka smiled. She switched her parasol to her left hand and pulled back the right.

She waited.

She was so close Tenshi could hear her breathing. A mere twist of her hand would have been enough to poke her with her sword, and if she attacked now, she had a flawless line straight into Yuuka's torso, without even having to expend much strength. It was that easy.

She stayed still.

Yuuka stared at Tenshi.

She wrinkled her nose.

The impact was so sudden Tenshi didn't realise what had happened when she had skittered several feet down the path and collapsed into a heap in the middle of it. The pain came next, blossoming from her nose until her entire face was nothing more than a single zone of agony. Without thinking, she breathed in sharply and clapped her left hand over her nose, in hopes of subduing the pain with her palm. It didn't help.

Clenching her miraculously unharmed teeth together as the taste of copper exploded in her mouth, Tenshi pulled herself to her knees, still holding her face. The joints of her neck popped several times as she gazed at Yuuka through a haze of sweat, she told herself, she was not crying. Distantly, she more sensed than saw that her sword lay several feet from where she sat, and with great effort, she began inching herself towards it.

Yuuka merely watched her as she crawled down the path, an indecipherable expression on her face.

Finally there, Tenshi grabbed for her sword, but her hand slipped on her first attempt. On the second she managed to hold on to it. She attempted to stand up, only to sink back onto her knees. _This is what they meant by "force of nature"..._

She looked up.

Yuuka reopened her parasol and shielded herself from the sun. Though most of Tenshi's attention was on her aching nose — it was broken for sure, and had she been a human she would've broken her neck too — she also saw the interest in Yuuka's eyes flicker away.

"You certainly bent the knee in a hurry." Yuuka's eyes fell on something behind Tenshi. "Your hat's right by that patch of freesias over there once you're prepared to stand up and leave."

"Who said " Tenshi fell silent; her voice sounded thick and muffled. She wiped the blood seeping from her nose on the back of her hand and tried again. "Who said anything about leaving?"

"You may be resilient, but that alone doesn't make this interesting. I'm fond of old-fashioned battling, but frankly, I'm no longer in the mood for it. You're free to return when you're ready to put up more of a challenge."

"You..." Tenshi attempted to stand up again, and this time managed a lurching crouch. "I'm not giving up just like that."

Yuuka shook her head. "You gave up before I ever struck. I could see it in your eyes. You were battling something, but it wasn't me." She tucked her hair behind her ear. "I have no interest in being an accessory to your inner struggles. Now, if you'll excuse me..."

She began walking down the path at the same leisurely pace as ever.

"Wait." Cringing inwardly, Tenshi straightened her back, the knuckles of her sword hand whitening around the hilt.

Yuuka kept walking.

"I said wait!"

Yuuka paused. "Yes, I heard." She kept walking.

Tenshi grit her teeth. The pain wasn't going anywhere, but she was still in one piece. How dare this youkai snub her like this, before the true battle had even begun?

She lowered her hand and stared at it. Her palm was soaked in rapidly clotting blood, a deeper red than when she had willingly sliced it open herself a month earlier. It hadn't hurt then beyond a simple sting, and she had barely noticed it when it scarred over. Her eyes found the exact spot the cut had been in, now no different from the rest of her palm.

The pain gave way to nausea.

She staggered forward. "Wait, or I'll make you regret you didn't."

Yuuka turned to look over her shoulder. "So, you do have some fire in you. However, I doubt you have it in you to make me regret anything."

Tenshi managed a lopsided grin. "You think so?" Of course, Yuuka couldn't know she had memorised the articles on youkai from the Gensokyo Chronicle word to word. And even if she hadn't, everyone knew the best way to hurt a youkai was to target its spirit. And where, exactly, was the most logical place for Yuuka's spirit?

She stumbled towards the edge of the path until her sword arm brushed against the sunflowers. Perhaps she wasn't thinking straight, but it looked like the blossoms turned to face her.

She struck.

The Sword of Hisou wasn't designed for weeding, but it did an adequate job nevertheless: sunflower heads fell into undignified heaps on the ground as their leaves and stalks were torn in half by the blade.

Yuuka's posture grew rigid.

Tenshi smirked and swung her sword again.

Before she could strike a third time, a vice-like hand gripped her upper arm and crushed the bones in it into a fine powder.

"I see now how set your heart is on this." Yuuka was still smiling. Her eyes shone with an unearthly light. "Very well. This once, you can have what you want. It's been a while since I've been able to indulge myself."

Tenshi's mouth fell open, but no sound came out. The pain in her mangled arm was worse than any she had experienced before. And yet, underneath the burning white agony there was a current of cleansing, like the pain was a cauterising fire.

She would've laughed if she could have when Yuuka's next strike hit home and her collarbone split into pieces.


	4. But Maybe We Can Learn

"—st Daughter."

Tenshi groaned as the red haze cushioning her mind thinned just enough for her to feel the bone-crushing agony of her broken body. She was cold inside out, like she had been carved from stone. With great effort, she forced her eyes open to see a blurry, but vaguely familiar figure.

"...At least you're alive, then." The figure was speaking more to itself than to Tenshi, its voice weary. "Of all the reckless things..."

A cool hand brushed lightly across Tenshi's clammy forehead. Tenshi kept her eyes open long enough to see the figure stare at its hand and wipe it on the ground with a shudder, then allowed herself to sink back into the haze.

When she next came to, she was lying where she had last found herself, feeling as wretched as before. She groaned again, this time with purpose. As much as it felt like the knot in her stomach had spread across her entire body and was now trying to grind her remaining muscles and bones into a fine powder, there was no reason to remain still if the pain wasn't about to shift anyway.

First, she wanted to know if the person who had come to her rescue was who she thought it was — and, if she was honest with herself, who she hoped it was. Again, she cracked her eye open.

The figure was still there, and drew closer. "Can you hear me?"

"Sure..." Tenshi's brow furrowed with equal parts effort and frustration. No matter how hard she squinted, she couldn't rid herself of the thin film of red before her eyes that made everything appear as if through coloured glass. "It hurts."

"I should think so." Something about the tone made Tenshi wonder if 'think' meant 'hope'.

The figure drew a deep breath. "Please endure this for a moment longer."

Soon, a silken cloth wiped Tenshi's face clean, ginger around the eyes. The next time Tenshi focused, she could see Iku's crimson eyes and impassive expression clearly. Something was off, but she couldn't put her finger on it. It was too difficult to focus.

She grunted. "So, it was you."

She had never heard Iku as much as raise her voice, even when she had been ticked off enough to strike Tenshi with thunderbolts, but right then her eyes were signalling a long string of unuttered swears.

Iku brought her free hand to her forehead and briefly closed her eyes before responding. "You've been gone for three days. Your parents sent everyone with non-pressing duties to search for you this morning." Iku looked away and folded the bloodied cloth in a matter-of-fact way, careful to avoid the stains.

Three days? Had she really been out of it for that long? Tenshi tried to push herself up, but nothing larger than her fingers obeyed her.

Iku blinked. As Tenshi's eyesight faltered again, she reached for something lying on Tenshi's chest and picked up a thin, rectangular object. There was a rustle of paper.

"What on heaven and earth..."

Tenshi struggled to prop herself up with her elbows and failed. She then tried re-opening her eyes, and did better. "What is it?"

"A letter from Yuuka Kazami to Reimu Hakurei. _'...I hope you can overlook this indiscretion, with the understanding that the other party struck the first blow...'_ After that, there's a drawing of a heart." Iku lowered the letter and stared. "What did you do this time, Eldest Daughter?"

"Some gardening," Tenshi mumbled.

"Fine." Iku folded the letter, and after a moment of hesitation, tucked it into Tenshi's unresisting hand. "I think you should hold onto this for now."

Tenshi curled her fingers around the letter, glad she could at least do that much. "What happens next?"

This time, the silence stretched on for a long time. Tenshi squinted to make better sense of Iku's expression but to no avail.

"I suppose I ought to take you home." Iku finally said, sounding none too pleased at the prospect. "Can you sit up?"

"No."

"I was afraid of that. It's a miracle you weren't claimed by the shinigami in that condition." Iku sighed deeply.

It was then that Tenshi figured out what had been bothering her. Iku looked exactly like when she had last seen her — which had been immediately after the blood incident. If anything, she looked worse: her skin had taken on an eerie grey tint, and her eyes had bruise-like dark circles around them.

Tenshi stared, waiting for the telltale signs of an incoming retch, until Iku continued: "What possessed you to do something as foolhardy as this?"

"None of your business," Tenshi muttered, and immediately the pain was joined yet again by its good friend nausea.

Iku's expression, already cold, could now have been carved from ice. "You're right. Please forgive my indiscretion."

Tenshi felt what little remained of her blood boiling, while simultaneously jostled by the cold waves of sickness.

"You're making this worse," she spat through gritted teeth.

Iku raised a solitary eyebrow. "Shall I leave you here to wait for a reaper, then?" Before Tenshi could respond, she continued: "As unpleasant as you find my company, I can hardly leave you here like this."

Any other day, Tenshi would have rebutted with the haughtiest insult she could've come up with. She opened her mouth for one when a chilly realisation struck her. She was dizzy, aching all over where it didn't sting instead, and lying on what felt like drying mud, unable to stand.

If Iku left, she really might perish.

"It's not like that," she said in a quiet voice. "It's just when I think about you, I feel sick."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"It hasn't always been like this. It's just—" How was she supposed to explain something when she didn't even understand it herself? "I did this because of you, alright?"

Iku stared at her like she had suddenly sprouted horns. She closed her eyes and squeezed them shut.

After a long pause, she re-opened them and said: "If it's not too much to ask, Eldest Daughter, how does you having yourself beaten to a pulp relate to me in any way, apart from where it causes me additional work?"

"I didn't mean it like that!" Tenshi felt like screaming. She threw her head to the side and was rewarded with a new stab of pain. "Just forget it!" she hissed, doing her hardest not to sound strangled.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Iku tilting her head ever so slightly to the right.

"...If you can't fly by yourself, I suppose I will carry you." Iku said after long pause to end all long pauses. "It may jostle your wounds somewhat, but please endure it."

"...All right." Tenshi did her best not to complain as Iku pulled her upwards and hoisted her against her shoulder, as much as the sudden movement rekindled the burning ache in her bones. A deep scrape in her knee struck against Iku's leg, sending sparks of pain shooting up her spine. The world went black.

When she came to, she was back on the ground. A small wound on her arm had been agitated by the lift and was bleeding again, but it seemed harmless enough. She couldn't see the cut on her knee, but the intense throbbing was fading away.

Grimacing, she turned her head. To her surprise, she found Iku sitting curled up next to her, shielding her eyes from the sunlight.

"Iku?"

Iku took a deep, laboured breath, still not moving. "My apologies, Eldest Daughter. It appears the exertions of the day have caught up with me."

"What do you—" Tenshi swallowed the rest of the question. Of course, it was possible Iku was sick in some unrelated way, but the most logical reason for her malaise was also one Tenshi really didn't want to think about. All the same, Tenshi racked her brain trying to remember what the book had said, but in vain. It had mentioned that permanent damage was unlikely, hadn't it? Had there been anything about lingering effects?

"It will pass," Iku said firmly. "I simply need a moment to regain my bearings."

Even as she spoke, Tenshi could tell she was lying: a thin film of sweat had risen to her face, and her skin was greyer than ever.

"It's fine," Tenshi heard herself say. "I'm not going to die this very minute."

Iku made no response apart from a small nod. She swayed in place.

Tenshi sighed, and could practically feel what little energy she had to spare escape with her breath. Most of it was going to her celestial constitution mending her broken bones, something which was usually a blessing, but in her ravaged state left her feeling like a gutted fish.

Laboriously, she turned her head towards Iku and squinted. "...I got blood on your raiments."

"...As long as it's not on my skin, it's fine."

"No." Tenshi swallowed. "It isn't."

"Good."

"No, I didn't mean it's not on your skin. I meant..." It was like when she had first attempted to raise a giant boulder, back before her ascension. "I meant I should have made sure the blood wouldn't hurt you first."

Iku nudged her head slightly upwards. Her eyes were narrow, but her expression was more confused than hostile.

Tenshi tilted her head to look at the clouds. She was starting to feel light-headed, but she forced her eyes to stay open. There was more she had to say.

"Iku..." she managed. Either her ears weren't working right, or her voice was thinner than air.

Iku nodded again, so minutely Tenshi half thought she had imagined it.

"I'm..." Tenshi sucked air in through her teeth. It had been centuries since she had last said what she meant to say, and even longer since she had truly meant it. "I'm...I'm sorry."

She waited, feeling lighter than she had felt in months.

There was no response.

Mustering all her energy, Tenshi reached to her side and grazed Iku's arm. Still nothing. Peering at her face more carefully, Tenshi saw she was either asleep or dead.

 _It can't be helped_ , Tenshi thought as she stopped resisting and allowed her mind to sink back into the inviting darkness behind her eyes. If only she had...

* * *

Tenshi woke up on a sub-standard futon. Her bones, while still aching, had mended considerably, and as she saw no flowers, clearly she had managed to elude death. Nice.

As she lay still, pleased with herself, reality slowly began to drift in. Where was she, exactly? If this was back in Heaven, the place sure had gotten a lot shabbier in the meanwhile. And — the last of her good mood evaporated — what had become of Iku? She tried to piece together what little halting conversation they had had before she had fallen unconscious, to no avail.

In a rising panic, she raised her head, only to discover Iku asleep by her side.

"Oh." With an audible creak, followed by a hiss of pain, she sat up to peer at Iku's face. She was breathing — so far, so good — and though it was difficult to say for sure in the scant light, Tenshi's superior eyes told her Iku's complexion was much closer to normal than before.

She was just about to shake Iku awake and demand to know where on earth they were, when she heard voices speaking from beyond the door.

Finding her belongings by her side, she got dressed, noticing for the first time someone had rather clumsily wrapped her messed up limbs in gauze. Donning her hat, which still had some flecks of mud on it, she stood up, and though her bad leg made her wobbly, made her way to the door without incident. She slid it open just enough to peer into the bright room on the other side.

"It's not much to ask for," said Reimu Hakurei with a huff, sitting in a less than lady-like way next to an old table, haphazardly darning a sock. For a moment, Tenshi thought she was addressing her, but her eyes were fixed onto something beyond Tenshi's sight.

"Oh, come on." A somewhat slurred, and decidedly familiar voice spoke from what Tenshi assumed was the porch. She opened the door another inch to catch a glimpse of a familiar figure with a pair of horns and long, orange hair lying on her back on the floor, a purple gourd in hand.

"I told you I'd take a bottle as compenshation," Suika Ibuki continued, grinning slyly despite her slurring.

"That doesn't mean I'm happy with you taking the one I was saving for Obon!"

Suika chuckled. "Should a shrine maiden even celebrate Obon?"

"Yes. It's a great excuse to drink." Reimu turned her head and saw Tenshi staring at her. "Oh. Which one are you? From what I see of you, you could be either."

Tenshi slid the door fully open with a loud slam. "Are you kidding me?"

Reimu narrowed her eyes. "Oh, great. I was hoping for the messenger." She placed the sock carefully on the table before getting up. "If you're well enough to walk, you might as well have your breakfast at the table."

She stepped into another room, leaving Tenshi with no answers and an urge to smash things. Still, to appease her hollow stomach, she stumbled into the larger room and sat by the table. After what felt like a week of involuntary fasting, even the ashen food of Earth would be tolerable.

"Heeey, Tenshi." Suika waved at her lazily without getting up, speaking more clearly than before. "You're heavier than you look."

"You carried me here?"

"You and Iku both. Reimu bribed me. Said she didn't want to risk dropping you with you half dead and all." Suika turned her head upwards so that Tenshi could see her face and winked. "Invite me next time you party that hard."

Before Tenshi could respond, Reimu returned and slammed a pair of chopsticks and a bowlful of white rice with a single sad pickle on top in front of her.

"It's all we've got. Take it or leave it." She sat back down and grabbed the sock. Despite her words, both her tone and expression were mild, and she continued mending the sock with what was almost a smile.

Tenshi grabbed the chopsticks, only to discover that despite her growling stomach, she suddenly had no appetite. "How is Iku?"

Reimu looked up and scrutinised her silently before responding. "Much better. I'm no doctor, but she should be fine."

Relief flooded into Tenshi. She nodded, then dug into the food. As rotten as it tasted, she could feel more of her strength returning with every bite.

"After you're done with that, you will tell me what happened, from beginning to end, " Reimu continued without looking up from her darning. "I have to know if this is connected to a larger incident."

Tenshi paused with a clump of rice midway into her mouth. "Didn't you get the letter?"

"That only explains why you were pummelled. Which, for the record, is something I can't really blame Yuuka for. This looks about as good as I can make it," she added, addressing Suika, showing her the mended sock.

Suika shrugged against the floor. "Hey, it's yours anyway. If you're happy with it, it's done."

"Then it's done." Reimu returned her attention to Tenshi. "You'd better start now, actually. I have plans for today."

"No you don't," Suika laughed. Reimu pointedly ignored her and kept her eyes on Tenshi.

Tenshi stared down at her half-finished breakfast. She wasn't sure she even knew where to begin, but she wasn't about to admit that.

"It really had nothing to do with Gensokyo," she said.

"I'll be the judge of that."

Tenshi glared at her, then sniffed haughtily. "If you want to interrogate someone, ask Iku instead."

"Fine. So, what happened?"

Tenshi opened her mouth to snap at her before realising Reimu's eyes were directed at something behind her. She turned to see Iku, still greyer than Tenshi had thought her to be in the dim light, but up-right and very much alive, her expression inscrutable.

* * *

"An entire week..." Though Iku's tone was mild, her forehead was lined with worry.

"Yeah." Tenshi waved her legs over the porch. After breakfast was over, and after she had been given Iku's word (Tenshi's apparently wasn't good enough for her. Bah.) that their condition had nothing to do with a large-scale conspiracy which required her intervention, Reimu had installed the pair of them on the porch and slid the door shut to give them some privacy. "Think it's long enough that they'll just be relieved when I get back?"

"I couldn't say." The creases deepened. "I was expected back at the Dragon Palace five days ago."

"Won't they know you were ill?"

"Yes, but it shouldn't have mattered in the face of duty..." Iku lowered her head and grimaced.

Meanwhile, Tenshi raised her chin. "I'll explain what happened if we have to. But only if we have to."

"Of course."

They enjoyed the pleasant weather in silence for a while. As dingy as the twice rebuilt shrine was, especially compared to Tenshi's version of it, she had to admit it had a certain rustic charm.

"Iku..." She stopped kicking her feet in the air and gripped the edge of the porch with both hands. Her throat was dry. "Do you remember what happened before you fainted?"

"Remember what, Eldest Daughter?"

It was Tenshi's turn to grimace. She had been barely conscious herself and definitely not in her right mind, and squeezing out an apology had still been as hard as picking up a mountain all by herself. If she had to do it all over again, she would break something. A lot of somethings. Possibly including bones.

"You remember how we talked about what happened earlier? I mean..."

"Yes, I do." Iku's voice was utterly toneless, but she appeared to follow.

"Right. Do you remember what I said after that? About the same thing?"

Iku turned to look at Tenshi, with arched eyebrows. She tilted her head.

"Argh!" Tenshi drew a deep breath. "Okay..." It was much harder to force the words out in broad daylight, with other people a mere door away. "What I said then was...was..."

Iku continued to stare at her attempting to spit out another apology and utterly failing at it for a long moment before breaking into a small smile. "It's fine, Eldest Daughter. I do remember."

"What?" Tenshi completely lost her balance. After a moment of regaining her bearings, she half yelled: "You could've said so!"

"I'm sorry," Iku was smiling openly now, not sounding the least bit sorry. "I couldn't resist the temptation."

"Bah." Despite her outburst, Tenshi didn't actually feel cross. She sat back down, avoiding Iku's eyes. "Well, I meant it, I guess."

"Thank you." When Tenshi turned to look, Iku's smile was gone, replaced by perfect sincerity. "And I forgive you." A small crease appeared between her eyes. "Assuming you never attempt something like this again."

Now it was Tenshi's turn to grin. "I'll think of something else next time."

Iku sighed. "That doesn't exactly fill me with confidence." Still, her tone was airy, and when their eyes next met, they were both smiling.

"Well," Iku continued after a while, "if we are well enough for the journey, we ought to return to the skies as soon as possible."

Tenshi paused to listen. From beyond the door rang the sounds of moving shogi pieces and of Reimu and Suika quietly bickering.

"I still need to rest." Truth be told, she had felt as hale as ever since breakfast. Iku looked much better already as well, but there was a kind of faintness that clung to her that made Tenshi uneasy. "We should stay here till the evening, at least."

Iku tried to hide her obvious relief behind a frown. "If we must, then of course..." Tenshi could practically see her already thinking up the perfect wording for the eventual excuse she'd give at the Dragon Palace.

To encourage this line of thought, she continued with: "If they're going to be mad, they'll be mad whether we stay a day longer or not," and as Iku seemed satisfied with that, turned her head towards the door. "Think they might let us play after they're done?"

Iku tilted her head slightly to the right, then nodded. "I should think so."

Sharing a smile, the two of them slid the door open and joined Reimu and Suika inside.


End file.
